Violet and the Horrible Fanfic Writer
by ASBusinessMagnet
Summary: The Business Magnet one day wakes up and suddenly is spun into the twisted world of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and also as no one else but his childhood crush, Violet Beauregarde. How will it turn out for him? Alternatively: The story of a guy blinded by roleplay.
1. Beginning

_Author's idiotisms: It's me with a seriously written fanfic, yet again... after a long pause. I thought I'd never live up to this moment._

* * *

I took a deep breath of my room once again. Today was September 2nd and we had a celebration called the September 1st, announcing the beginning of the school year. Except September 1st was a Sunday and nothing could happen on that day, so it was kind of dumb, but then again I'm not exactly the one in charge of things. For a while, I would be alone in the house, but then I would go to Kaunas to spend time in a mall. Yeah.

_The story of my life really doesn't make sense,_ I thought as I turned on my PC and went downstairs to get something edible.

When I went back upstairs, I noticed the icon saying "Minecraft" and another one saying "no launch this one instead", put aside so they didn't blend into millions of other programs and files on my computer. Turning on Minecraft, I checked that the server Minebent, on which I roleplay as the Homestuck character Roxy Lalonde, was entirely empty. After a few minutes on the server, I shut off Minecraft and went on YouTube to watch Minecraft videos instead.

I think I spent about an hour checking out ExplodingTNT videos and a new machinima, In the Beginning, featuring Notch and Herobrine as creators of the Minecraft world. I really liked the idea of Villagers and Steves being the perfect balance for each other, but past the 3 minute mark the video didn't get my attention. After "watching" it in its entirety, I shut off my PC, went to my bed and slowly passed out for an afternoon nap, thinking that this was going to be a long school year.

* * *

"I'm sure you had sweet dreams, Violet. Now win that ticket for me."

I woke up to a really smooth yet fierce voice. Looking around, I saw a box of Wonka chocolate bars, with half of them opened and the wrapping paper and the chocolate bar parts neatly organized. It wasn't exactly my room or my train of thoughts, but that's how dreams work. You don't realize you're in a dream until after a while, and for me in particular, the shock of realizing I'm in a dream wakes me up. Except I didn't think any of that, or any of anything really, because even if I had thoughts, they were drained out by a constant chewing gum noise.

Still not entirely aware of my surroundings, I picked up another Wonka bar, Chocolate Creme or something, and carefully opened it. However, instead of brown chocolate that got piled up, I saw that the bar was weirdly golden and had text on it.

_Golden Ticket._

"Golden... what?" I muttered in a voice unfamiliar to me and the smooth and fierce woman looked up to me and gasped.

"Violet... you found the third golden ticket!" She kissed me and congratulated me. "I'm so proud of you. I'm going to call news agencies right now." But then I took a moment to gather everything together.

_Third golden ticket... wait a minute... that means I'm Violet Beauregarde! (Author's idiotisms: No no no. You got something wrong. If I remember correctly, _I_ am Violet Beauregarde... wait... wrong fanfic.)_ I gasped in shock myself as I continued chewing my piece but then what I could only presume was Violet's mother said "Well, you did a good job, Violet, now the big days are coming. Get a good rest." She then shut off the lights and I stuck my chewing gum piece behind my ear, at least remembering some of the mannerisms of Violet.


	2. Mike

The next day, I woke up to a phonecall, apparently making another arrangement with the news agencies. But that wasn't going to interrupt my usual schedule, which apparently makes even less sense than... I forgot. Whatever. The point is, Violet- I mean I am now homeschooled and every morning go to different sport classes, so that I could one day be trained to become the Olympic champion or something. (Also it was randomly winter for some reason, but that's less outstanding.)

As I got up, I immediately realized one thing: I was freakishly small. _How old am I supposed to be? Ten?_ I got over that pretty quickly, though, as I redressed to my karate suit with a black belt and descended to meet my mother, who took me to this other building, where two tutors greeted me and insisted that I chop a wooden block with my hands.

However, beyond everyone's expectations, including mine, not only I chopped the wooden block, but also ended up knocking the two tutors, who insisted that I fight them, out of the picture. Because I totally can do that, and it's especially hella rad when I follow up the scene with no spectators with blowing a chewing gum bubble.

But before I could figure out where precisely these skills came up, some journalists and my mother arrived at the set. My mother handed me over the Golden Ticket and the lucky Wonka bar and with them I set a huge near-trademark grin for a photo to go on the newspapers.

This is going to be awkward, I thought as I was escorted back to my house with all the cups, redressed to look near-identical to my mother except smaller, and stared at the wall of reporters that quietly filled up as the timer began counting, signifying the beginning of live filming.

_Three... two... one._

"These are just some of the 263 trophies and medals my Violet has won." My mother said and I knew it was my turn.

"I'm a gum chewer, mostly. But when I heard about these ticket things, I laid off the gum. Switched to candy bars." _Good thing I know the script of the movie by heart._

"She's just a driven young woman. I don't know where she gets it."

I then looked around in my own brand _I'm sure I'm forgetting something_ way when I noticed a trophy that looked like teeth biting onto something.

"I'm the Junior World Champion Gum Chewer. This piece of gum I'm chewing right at this moment I've been working on for three months solid. _That's a record._"

"Of course, I have my share of trophies. Mostly baton." The cameras and the eyes were all pointed at a single wall diploma awarded to Scarlett Beauregarde. _Okay, that's her name. I'll remember._

" So it says that one kid's gonna get this special prize, better than all the rest. I don't care who those other four are. That kid, it's gonna be me."

"Tell them why, Violet."

"_Because I'm a winner._"

"CUT."

All cameras in the room shut off at once and one of the reporters said "Another rotten child! I just…"

"Yeah, she's just a little too obsessed with winning."

I kept chewing my supposedly _record_ gum, listening to them but also thinking of something else, like that LT United song.

_So you're gonna vote (vote) vote (vote)_  
_Vote for the winners_  
_Vote (vote) vote (vote)_  
_Vote for the winners_  
_We are the winners of Eurovision_  
_Vote!_

But then everything was interrupted… again. A portable television set that one reporter had brought spoke. "This just in. The fourth golden ticket has been found by a boy called Mike Teavee." Before anyone knew it, everyone was looking at the screen instead of me and I had to follow.

"Now tuning to Denver, Colorado." A different announcer from the first one said and the screen displayed a house with reporters' cars parked near it and... video game sounds?

Then the view cut to Mike. While playing a first person shooter, he ranted about how he precisely calculated just where to look. He concluded "an idiot could do it" as reporters around me started deeply frowning.

"Most of the time, I have no idea what he's talking about." His father said. "Kids these days seem just like..."

"Die! Die! Die!"

"...they're not going to stay kids very long."

Then on set someone asked "And how did it taste?"

"I don't know. I hate chocolate."

Then Violet's... _my_ mother shut the TV off and the reporters looked around the room and each other.

"Fourth rotten child! What are we going to do!" one of them shouted and they all pulled out their phones with black-and-white screens, messaging each other and the world. _Come on, it's 2013!_

_..._

_Is it?_

* * *

_Author's idiotisms: And then I am reminded of that scene in The Prince and the Pauper where the prince met the hobo's father and said "You're his father!" and the father said "I've no idea what you're talking about, but I'm your father and you'll listen to me!"_

_Also, for the time being I'm quitting writing trollfics, seeing as my level of English has decreased because of them._


	3. Sergey

"Miss Beauregarde, I would-"

_Slam!_

Having just risen from the couch, O shut the window closed and took a moment to have this sink in: there were reporters waiting to take an interview from me _outside the windows._

I had been living with reporters for a week by now. They were very insistent on keeping track of every aspect of my life since winning the ticket, not even allowing me - or my mother - out. As I took a deep breath of not-terribly-fresh air, I accidentally walked into the Wonka bar box where I had found the ticket.

We with my mother were literally reduced to drinking tap water and eating Wonka bars.

I was aware of the damage. If I ate too much of the stuff a day and didn't do exercises at home (after all, I didn't leave my house) (_Author's idiotisms: I suppose that makes her... homestuck. BUH DUM TSS)_ I will appear in the tour even fatter than the epitome of fatness Augustus Gloop. Not a very good first impression for the ultimate winner. But, alas, I had to survive somehow.

Oh, and here's the icing on the cake: whenever I peeked into the news reports that were spreading around the world, approximately half of them spelled my name as "Violet Beauregard". Even though they could just take note of it by taking one of my trophies, like Jane Crocker... Janet Roberts did. It bothered me when I was still back in Lithuania and it bothers me now.

Walking back to the room that first appeared on television when the world saw my face, being completely bored and at a loss of things to do to entertain myself, let alone the reporters, I suddenly noticed the voice of my mother, who had been preparing for our trip the whole time, using the primitive excuse for the Internet and never letting me near ot because I'm supposed to be a winner unmoved by such ludicrous distractions.

"Violet, we're going. Now."

We both then dressed in identical (minus the size issue) winter jackets and my mother showed me that at least one of the windows wasn't surrounded by reporters and we could safely escape. We were both unmoved by the "guys toracking evey aspect of my life" bullshit as we got into the car to get to the airport.

But then I saw something else.

Sitting in the back seat, I very clearly saw a girl about my age across me and a distressed therapist about to take a long flight. It was almost as if my stories were unraveling before me.

"Hello, Violet!"

_'Sup... Irene Hurricane._

The vision quickly faded, though, as I stepped into the airport's building and immediately noticed a tabloid on sale, proclaiming that the fifth and last Golden Ticked had been found by a Russian boy named Sergey Kulchyakov.

In the photos, he was as much of a smiler as I was and I could see the Russian church in Moscow in the background, but then I read the article itself and... St Petersburg? Что?

Oh, and at the bottom of the article there were the mugshots of us four, as if we were a separate horribly misinterpreted group: August Gloop, Verruca Salt, Mike Teevee... and Violet Beauregard, of course.

I put the newspaper back where it belongs (in the counter, never to be bought by anyone), and, after finding my mother among more journalists, we both stepped through security and into the airplane to Canada.

* * *

_Author's idiotisms: My best solution to the "is Wonka's factory in the US or England" dilemma. In the second novel the main characters saw North America beneath them, but no one ever said that North America equals the US._


	4. Arrival

_Author's idiotisms: Aaaaaaaand I accidentally a double-length chapter._

* * *

When, looking through the little airplane window, I saw a factory that looked like it was from a fairytale, I knew I had arrived. Upon arrival, more journalists greeted me and desperately wanted to talk to me, and from their conversations, I learned that the fifth ticket was actually a fake (as well as that, they took my own ticket away to ensure that it was a real deal; something about the gold rubbing off), so there were still us four. _Just perfect,_ I thought. _Four little children who are given a golden opportunity._

But before I could think of anything else, I was greeted by the other girl from our shitty "team", which I could tell because she also was surrounded by reporters.

"Howdy, Violet!"

_I'll never get over with strangers knowing my name._ "Hi, Veruca."

"Heard you're keeping your eyes on the prize. Good luck with that!" Veruca then disappeared and my mother smiled at the pun, and I just sort of knew it would appear a whole lot of times later.

"I call BS." noted another guy, who I recognized as Mike Teavee. After I and Veruca gave awkward glances, he continued: "Literally. BS. Beauregarde and Salt. First letters of the last names."

I started chewing my gum more angrily, each chew louder than the last. We then were separated because the silence wa making us all more likely to just snap and then I wound up in the room meant for me, greeted by a hotel receptionist.

"Anything for dinner, Ms. Beauregarde?" she asked. _Finally no longer living on Wonka bars._ "Sure." I replied and my mother added "We'd be glad to." The receptionist left but before she could come back, I fell asleep from all the traveling and irritation, thinking that I will have to eat a cold dinner.

* * *

"Business Man."

I woke up to a male voice. When I opened my eyes I saw a guy that I didn't recognize, and quickly glanced around the room, trying my best to understand what was going on.

"W-wha?" I mumbled to the best of my ability as I noticed a clock reading 8:30 AM, meaning that there was still an hour and a half until the gates opened.

"Yo, Business Man, do you read me? This is Insane Guy of DOOM."

"Um, who is Business Man? Remember, I'm Violet Beauregarde." I said as I noticed a bowl of cold tomato soup. _(Author's idiotisms: Dude, OOC tags. Use them.)_ I carefully picked my record chewing gum piece out of my mouth and behind my ear, and began drinking from the entire bowl.

"Holy shit." The guy of doom took a step back, likely from no one teaching me how to eat, and said "This roleplaying thing has really gotten to you."

Briefly putting the bowl down, I responded "Um, could you speak in English? Last time I checked, neither Business Man nor roleplaying were English words."

I then drank the rest of the bowl, seeing how speechless the guy of doom was, put the chewing gum piece back in my mouth and dressed up to step into the winter, with the jacket, the shoes, and, of course, the golden ticket.

"Business Man, listen to me." The guy spoke up as I left the hotel room and closed the door, locking him inside, and ran away as fast as I could so he wouldn't bother me. _No one can ever know._

Upon reaching the streets I immediately noticed the fairytale factory. Walking at a regular pace, I suddenly had another vision of four kids meeting in the dark and then met by two adults. As they went to the factory faster than me, I was suddenly knocked over by the same guy of doom.

"Listen, if you say so, _Violet Beauregarde._ At least you could read this." As we stood up, he handed several sheets of paper with words on them. I only read a few snippets, though:

_[__…_] someone hugged Violet really hard it was… Willy Wanker! "Ms. Beauregarde, I'm Willy Wanker."

_Violet finished our role call with these lines: "So do I. […] It's just that I was really disappointed in not getting Mr. Wanker's […]_

before I realized something was terribly wrong and threw the sheets back.

"First of all, it's W-O-N-K-A, and second_…_ Did you just imply that I will not get his special prize? Because I will."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"Business Man, listen to me! The real you must still be there somewhere!"

"For the last time, I am _Violet Beauregarde_." I snapped and pushed the guy as rudely as I could. "And you'd better shut up before I-"

"Did you say you're Violet Beauregarde?" A guard noticed us nearly getting into a fight and said "Follow me." and we both walked towards the factory, leaving the guy of doom alone.

During the fairly short walk, I noticed one thing: people were already gathering. Everyone from serious reporters to demented fangirls wanted to take as many pictures as they could of the fairytale factory and the lucky finders entering it, and even were willing to stay in the cold for hours. _They don't really seem like people,_ I immediately thought. _More like parodies of people._

We finally got to the main gates. The people density was the greatest there and other guards had to ensure that there was a breathing area for eight people. As I looked around the area, I was alone again, but not for long as my mother did her best when struggling to meet me through all the other people.

When she finally got to me, she wanted to say "Violet, you should really have left with me." but didn't really say anything and I could only discern what she wanted to say from her harsh look. With a series of facial expressions, we got around to agreeing that everything was okay.

Over the hour people started coming both to our restricted area and outside of it. First, Charlie- I mean the guy who never got around to appearing on TV appeared with an old man. "So there's going to be five of us after all." I said to him and he briefly nodded and responded "Yeah. By the way, name's Charlie Bucket_…_ and you must be Violet, right?" I nodded and we returned to blankly staring at the gates and the factory behind them.

During the possibly longest hour in my life, more and more people came to join the mass and the remainder of us came to join the Golden Ticket Winner Crew. First I saw Veruca and her father come, and me and Veruca kept giving each other awkward glances. Then came Augustus and his mother, barely being able to step without slipping because they were that heavy, and lastly came Mike and his father, because they were actually sensible and didn't want to stand in the cold.

"Daddy, I want to go in." Veruca suddenly interrupted our daydreaming about what could possibly be in the factory. Her father looked at his watch and responded "It's 9:59, sweetheart." only to be mey with a harsh response "Make time go faster." _On one hand, we won't wait for very long, but then Veruca seems really bratty._

Then the fifth winner or whatever asked the old man "Do you think Mr. Wonka will recognize you?" and the old man was like "Hard to say." and I thought _Why would Mr. Wonka even know about everyone in the world? He does get it that the golden ticket winners were on TV, but-_

"Eyes on the prize, Violet. Eyes on the prize." My mother said and I briefly nodded. _Of course the pun saw a peak in getting notes on Tumblr. Um. Is Tumblr even a thing now? In 200__…_

_CLANG._

The gates finally opened and we all excitedly walked further as someone announced: _Please Enter._

However, we were a nervous and looking around as we were essentially somewhere no human had stepped in for quite a time.

_Come Forward._

We all ordered ourselves in a neat line and began walking regularly.

_Close the Gates._

Surely enough, the gates closed and we stepped into the shadow.

_Dear Visitors, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to my humble factory. And who am I? Well…_

* * *

"GUYS."

There was a sudden commotion in the Bucket household. Insane Guy of DOOM had entered the house, having nowhere else to look for help.

"Guys. Help me. It's with Violet. She's really-"

"Come to me." Grandpa George said to the stranger. Grandma Georgina was in her own world, and the rest of the Bucket family was shocked at the stranger.

Grandpa George then told the stranger: "No one really cares about Violet. Or any of those other kids. Mark Teavee or whatever. You know. They are worthless brats. If you are concerned about them, you are as bad as them, and you should only ever be concerned about Charlie. You understand me?"

Insane Guy of DOOM, unsatisfied with the answer, left and deeply sighed. _Fate had better have something up its sleeves._

* * *

_Author's idiotisms: Willy Wonka's here and he's got the games! The amazing chocolatier, beaten to shame! Willy Wonka's school can break the rules when he's got - just a few cheer codes for you!_

___…_

_Oh, wait, I forgot. That's literal shit. FORGET I EVER SANG THIS._


	5. Show-off

The factory building, closed for so many years, finally opened, revealing a set of curtains, which, when they opened, revealed... a puppet show. I wish I was making this up. _(Author's idiotisms: But no. _Instead_ I get to make up a song making fun of Violet sung to the tune of Gangnam Style.)_

_Hee hee, ha ha, ho ho ho!_  
_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier!_  
_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, everybody give a cheer! (Hooray!)_  
_He's modest, clever and so smart_  
_He barely can restrain it_  
_With so much generosity_  
_That there's no way to contain it_  
_To contain it_  
_To contain, to contain, to contain!_

As the puppets continued to dance in a robotic, awkward way, everyone inside the factory's hall, except the fat kid's mother, had no idea what was going on, and I imagine the people by the gates, who were also watching the show, didn't like it too much either. While I was chewing my record gum to the beat, the lyrics continued.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's the one that you're about to meet_  
_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's a genius who just can't be beat_  
_A magician and a chocolate whiz_  
_The best darn guy who ever lived_  
_Willy Wonka, here he is!_

We continued staring at the show with absolutely no idea what is wrong with the "amazing chocolatier"'s head, but the third verse didn't begin. Instead, something similar to a firework show began... _inside, mutilating the puppets in the process._ What.

While all ten of us stood there, as a certain guy who pestered me would say, "with a WTF look on our feces" [sic], an eleventh guy was almost ecstatic with what happened, laughing and clapping. "Hehehehe! Wasn't that just magnificent? I was worried it'd get dodgy in the middle part, but then that finale! Wow!"

_Who's this guy and why is he so shitty and why do I not remember him_ was my first thought as he stepped up to greet all of us, and so I asked: "Who are you?"

The first answer came from the old man who came with Charlie, "He's Willy Wonka!", followed by "Really?" from Charlie. _At least I'm not the only one in disbelief._

Being at a complete loss, the man supposed to be Willy Wanker (I mean Wonka), obviously not prepared, shouted to no one in particular: "Good morning, starshine, the earth says hello!"

_I swear, this guy has absolutely no idea what makes one whimsical and what makes one simply weird._

Finally, he decided to introduce himself properly... with a series of cards. This guy makes less sense by the minute. "Dear guests, greetings. Welcome to the factory. I shake you warmly by the hand."

He stuck out his hand, but no one took it. _Yeah, you're totally getting a handshake after making a complete fool out of yourself._

"My name is Willy Wonka."

"Then shouldn't you be up there?" Veruca immediately asked, and from then on it was obvious that the guy really had all the loose ends unscrewed.

"Well, I couldn't very well watch the show from up there, now, could I, little girl?"

Then the old man wanted to drop his own two cents. "Mr. Wonka, I don't know if you remember me, but I used to work here in the factory."

"Were you one of those despicable spies..." _Oh my god, this guy really hates his own workers._ "...copycat candy-making cads?"

"No, sir."

"Wonderful. Welcome back. Let's get a move on, kids." Mr. Wonka said, again showing absolutely no knowledge of the principles of running a host... I mean running a show, and even Augustus understood it as he asked: "Don't you want to know our names?"

"Can't imagine how it would matter. Come quickly! Far too much to see." he said and we all marched straight into the building, me at least trying to be the second lead, and the door closed, leaving all the reporters and fangirls with no awesome content.

* * *

_Author's idiotisms: I just want to give a shout-out to the Violet Beauregarde Fan Site for a) knowing how to spell Violet's last name and b) helping me out with Violet quotes._


	6. Trollfic

_Author's idiotisms: Two chapters of the same story in one day? Two chapters of the same story in one day._

_Anyway, at this point, I would like to thank the reviewer Turrislucidus for making me look at my own story from an entirely different perspective. As such, here is a sort-of-prequel chapter from Insane Guy of DOOM's perspective._

* * *

_AN SORRI 4 UNUPDATES SINS ALL THE FALMER TROLLZ (SPEEKIN 2 U SKEPKATTY HOOS NOT EVEN MSTIN MA STORY ANYMO!1!1601) ZAPPED MY INSPERATIONS AN STUFFZ BU I DID MA BEST TO FITE IN THESE UNCROOL TIMES AN HENS MA REEL FANS N NOT FALMER TROLLZ HEERS_

_REAL BEAUTY_

_CHAPTER 3:_

Insane Guy of DOOM stared blankly at the computer screen, with his side Tumblr for MarissaTheWriter turned on. Things had gotten a lot harder for him. It certainly didn't help that Skepkitty no longer cared about him, or that his Tumblr account had gotten no activity, but there was also another huge setback.

His partner in crime to literature, ASBusinessMagnet (or Principal Business Man, as he had dubbed him) was much more successful and productive in his own trollfics- What they were even about? Violet Baudelaire or something? Oh, that's right. Violet Beauregarde. And her existential kid. And Portal High School. And probably something else that he forgot.

Whenever he would try and sit down to write his own trollfics, images of Violet, thirty-five years later, running around her chewing gum factory, would pop in his mind and hence he would no longer be able to concentrate on his own stories.

Sighing, Insane Guy of DOOM shut off Tumblr and went on to browse the Internet, first stopping at Skepkitty's blog, The Half-World. Even The Half-World seemed to be back on track with a new MST. Deciding that this wasn't the counseling he needed, he instead decided to look at his email inbox.

There was a new message, but it didn't appear to be on the Inbox. After a few frustrated minutes, he found the letter in the deepest crannies, opened it and read it.

_From: Violet Beauregarde - harmlessexcellence yahoo. com_

He fondly remembered better times. When he and the Business Man weren't rivals and when he had tried to make him guess who harmlessExcellence was, and once they concluded that she was Violet, went on to talk about other things.

_Subject: Hey, by the way,_

_Can you not hit on me and call me "Business Man" in your future-past?_

_Sincerely,_  
_Violet Beauregarde_

After reading the message and desperately searching for words to say Violet, he glanced at the date.

_February 2005._

How could Violet possibly know about Business Man and harmlessExcellence if she was still living in the distant year of 2005? Unless-

Wait a minute.

This wasn't Violet. Insane Guy of DOOM quickly put two and two together and realized this must have been Business Man himself, who, for some reason, had been forced to claim he was Violet. Perhaps he now looked exactly like Violet, as in, he was in her body, and-

"AND HE WAS GOING TO TURN INTO A GIANT BLUEBERRY AND HAVE TO BE SQUEEZED AND REMAIN BLUE FOR YEARS AFTER." Insane Guy of DOOM shouted at the computer screen, very quickly coming to conclusions.

"I must help him."

But then the trollfic writer realized the first brick in his road: _How am I going to get to 2005 anyway? If only there was a convenient time machine, like in Marrissa's fanfics-_ he thought when he picked up his printed copy of Post-SCrash Session 3: Spectators of the Host (to hopefully remind Business Man who he really is) and went outside and was immediately greeted with a sight of a glass elevator, not the one from the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie but resembling the one in Portal 2 more, that all the passers-by seemed to ignore.

_Bingo._ He stepped into the elevator, which he realized was a time machine, and started writing out the time to go to.

_2005._

He stopped at this point to think about it. _The tour is on February 1st, so I must warn him before the time, preferably giving myself enough time to get from Florida to the factory._

_2005.01.31 09:30:00_

He hit enter. Sparkles surrounded the time machine, and with a flash, he was gone to the past.

* * *

The past didn't look too different from the present. Most houses stood as they were originally standing in the quiet Floridan town, and only businesses seemed to have changed names during the time. As Insane Guy of DOOM walked down the street he noticed a newspaper headline in a corner store saying "FIFTH GOLDEN TICKET FOUND" and mugshots of all the Golden Ticket winners: August Gloop, Verruca Salt, Violet Beauregard-

_Maybe I was actually right with the spelling._

Mike Teevee and Sergey Kulchyakov.

_Wait, didn't Charlie win the fifth ticket? Oh, I forgot. The fake ticket._

Shivering in the slightly chilly February weather, the trollfic writer continued to walk down the road to the local airport. Here, however, he was met with an unprecedented sight: guys with cameras were very intent on boarding one particular flight to Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Realizing that this must be the place where the tour took place, he ordered a ticket (his credit card hadn't yet been issued, so he had to resort to cash), went through tons of security (again, trying to shrug the fact that it seemed his passport hadn't been issued yet) and finally sat on board, in the process falling asleep due to the weirdest case of jetlag yet.

* * *

When the trollfic writer finally woke up, he saw the fairytale factory and knew he was at home. Stepping from the airport there, however, he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about the geography of the city. Not wanting to wander helplessly in the cold and snow, he stepped back into the airport, ordered a map of the city (_Curse you, Google Maps, for having not been invented yet_) and carefully analyzed the place. There was the chocolate factory, alright, the airport, a house that had to be home to the poorest family ever and then everything became fuzzy.

After several hours of searching and inquiring the caricature reporters, he finally realized where to look: a local five-star hotel. Seeing the sun rise, Insane Guy of DOOM folded the map and walked through the city, shivering more than ever before. As he stepped right into the hotel, he was quick to pass reception and head straight to the hotel's dormitories. Some of them, once again, were guarded by reporters, and by asking them, he immediately figured out where Violet slept. And thus, he silently opened the door, stepped to Violet, sure not to wake up her mother, and softly said:

"Business Man."

* * *

_Author's idiotisms: This kind of reminds me of THE MARRISSA GAMES, where the Teen Fortress 2 were brought from the past to help Marrissa in the Games._

_Anyway. Here you have it. Insane Guy of DOOM's backstory. Now please stand by while I continue the story of me-in-Violet's-body._


	7. Introductions

_"I was trying to write a chapter about Insane Guy of DOOM… and yet I ended up writing a chapter about myself. The only reason I had been much more productive in my trollfics and fanfics in general is because over the years I learned how to have my own little world spinning independently from anyone else's thoughts, relying purely on my own memories (which is also the reason why a good chunk of Spectators of the Host is centered around Violet)._

_I seriously need counseling right now." - Me, on my Tumblr_

* * *

In the building, as we took off our coats (I made sure to neatly put my Golden Ticket inside, so no one would steal it), everyone, from me to the nerdy kid's father, noticed something wrong with the atmosphere of the factory. "Sure is toasty in here." hence he said and Willy Wonka, trying to be a good host but failing again and again, responded:

"Oh, yeah. I have to keep it warm in here because my workers are used to extremely hot climate. They just can't stand the cold."

Then the poor kid, who desperately wanted to see the factory the worst, asked "Who are the workers?" and he only responded "All in good time."

_Well, you're at least trying to be a good host. But you see, the real spotlight is me, and I'm going to show for it._

As we were walking the red carpet, I suddenly stopped in my tracks to hig Mr. Wonka as hard as a ten year old girl possibly could, then stepped back and noticed I scared the hell out of him.

"Mr. Wonka, I'm Violet Beauregarde." I said. _Truly my line._

The host, still scared, tried to be a coolkid and responded "Oh. I don't care." and we continued walking.

"Well, you should care, because I'm the girl who's going to win the special prize at the end."

"Well, you do seem confident and confidence is key." He said and smiling and chewing gum, I looked at my mother (but only because I remembered that scene from the movie) and she gave an accepting back-smile.

_Accepting back-smile... that's not a real phrase, is it? Oops, tour's halting again._ I thought as I noticed Veruca wanting to introduce myself just as I did. She did it more graciously, with a weird sense of respect, and said "I'm Veruca Salt. It's very nice to see you, sir."

"I always thought that a verruca was a kind of wart you got on your foot. Ha!" Mr. Wonka replied, and suddenly I lost hopes in his tour-giving ability once again, but we didn't move along. No, Augustus _also_ had to introduce himself. "I'm Augustus Gloop. I love your chocolate." he said, eating his Wonka bar just as enthusiastically as I was chewing my gum.

"I can see that. So do I. I never expected us to have so much in common." _What? You two having something in common? You don't even look like you could be related._ He then turned to the nerdy kid and said "You. You're Mike Teavee. You're the little devil who cracked the system."

_So you do know our names after all._ "And you. Well, you're just lucky to be here, aren't you? And the rest of you must be their p... p..." _Oh, that's right, I nearly forgot. Wonka's got father issues._

After an awkward pause, one of the parents finally interrupted. "Parents?"

"Yeah! Moms and dads! ...Dad? Papa?" Mr. Wonka said, once again making a fool out of himself and I ought to stop calling Mr. Wonka a fool because this is the story about me and not him, and finished "Okay then, let's move along!"

We then continued walking the red carpet. I noticed that out of all kids, Veruca was the most intently watching me and was the first to actually speak to me, willingly. "Let's be friends."

"Best friends."

This friendly exchange, complete with us having crossed arms, however, ended in about ten seconds as the hallway ended with a wall and a very small door. Mr. Wonka commented: "It's a very important room here. After all, it's the chocolate factory."

"Then why is the door so small?" _Perfectly pointed out, Mike._

"To keep all the good chocolatey flavor inside." Mr. Wonka thus found a tiny key for the tiny door, unlocked the tiny door and pushed the wall away.


	8. Paradise

_Author's idiotisms: Another public service announcement to Turrislucidus. I actually said "I seriously need counseling right now" and you're still throwing cryptic doublespeak at me? What the hell._

* * *

What I saw behind the wall (and don't insist that it was actually the door; I saw the door) was quite probably the most beautiful sight ever conceived by man. Everything looked as if it was from a fairytale, featuring the chocolate river, candy trees, candy plants, and, as I and only I would think, "candy everything a poor man's house".

The house stood out as semi-transparent, and I immediately figured it was another freaky vision; a side effect of being a child with only half a brain. Oh, how I had missed them.

The failure of a host began, yet again. Ugh, how I hate him. "Now. Do be careful, my dear children. Don't lose your heads. Don't get over-excited. Just keep very... calm."

_Dear children? Oh, wait, I hugged him like he was my family member, which he isn't. Then again-_

"It's beautiful." My thoughts were interrupted by the poor kid... Charlie, and Wonka actually replied: "What? Oh, yeah, it's very beautiful." and thus we charged towards no direction in particular, trying to grasp the entirety of the beauty of the "chocolate room" which wasn't so chocolate-y, if you completely disregard-

"Every drop of the river is hot melted chocolate of the finest quality."

That part.

"The waterfall is most important. Mixes the chocolate. Turns it up. Makes it light and froffy. By the way, no other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by a waterfall, my dear children, and you can take that to the bank."

Because other factories actually know what they are doing, and your factory has a chocolate river and a waterfall... just for the sake of there being a chocolate river and a waterfall. You're not even making chocolate-flavored chocolate.

Then my thoughts were interrupted by the futuristic sounds, and the failure of a host interrupting us yet again.

"People! Those pipes suck up the chocolate and carry it away all over the factory. Thousands of gallons an hour. Yeah. Don't you like my meadow? Try some of my grass. Please have a blade, please do. It's so delectable and so darn-good looking."

Oh my god, I completely forgot about this.

"You can eat the grass?" Charlie, the most awestruck out of all ten of us, asked.

"Of course you can. Everything in this room is eatable, even I'm eatable, but that is called cannibalism, my dear children, and is in fact frowned upon in most societies. Enjoy." Wonka finally said and left us all alone to explore... somewhat, because everything was so heavenly, you didn't want to explore, you wanted to just relax and eat the candy.

And that was what I was going to do, god dammit. I walked up to the first apple tree, not thinking much of the implications of an apple tree, and snatched an apple, to the mixed amazement and disgust of the poor kid. However, as I took out my chewing gum piece and was ready to bite onto the apple, he interrupted my thoughts.

"Why hold on to it? Why not start a new piece?" he asked, and not knowing any better, I answered: "Because then I wouldn't be a champion. I'd be a loser. Like you."

Later, when Charlie wasn't looking, I would throw the apple away, hitting the waterfall and contaminating it without anyone noticing,

But then I thought about the whole apple thing, and it really got me. While Mike was imagining this was his favorite video game, and Augustus was eating non-stop, I looked at the Garden of Eden and thought of one line from Homestuck Book One, roughly paraphrased:

_THE HOLY BIBLE, starring Adam Bucket and Eve Beauregarde._

But then I was interrupted, yet again, by Veruca noticing the tiny people doing stuff, and we all were awestruck because these were the workers, and oh my god, I'm not even funny anymore.


End file.
